


The Devil in the Details

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10043213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: One-shot inspired by 12X12 Stuck in the Middle (With You) – consider this your spoiler warning. I hesitated to post this fic, since there are so many other amazing reader insert “re-writes” of the most epic Cas scene ever. But after re-reading and editing it, I think it’s different enough to share. Script straight from the episode is italicized and not mine. Obvious angst (You saw the episode, right?! Right?!), also fluffy flooff.





	

**Let me tell you a story – the unlikely story of Lucifer’s underling, Ramiel, Prince of Hell, who unwittingly used one of heaven’s most unyielding weapons to unleash the undying love of an uncommon angel. And how the King of Hell, Crowley, unquestioningly the luckiest upstart crossroads demon ever to usurp the underworld, gave this unparalleled love an opportunity to unfold with nary a soul unpeopled in the undertaking. You could say the match was made in heaven, but the devil was undeniably in the details.**

Castiel, fallen angel of the Lord, former soldier and commander of Heaven’s divine army, recent (only in practical terms of eons of existence) sufferer of human weakness, the seraph with too much heart, remained stoic even in the face of certain death.

 _“Crowley’s right, you should go.”_ Cas pressed his dimming blue eyes shut, gasping against the flood of pain surging in his chest.

Your affect remained strangely numb as you processed Crowley’s words. Dying, Castiel is dying – maliciously stabbed by Ramiel with the lance of the archangel Michael, doomed to rot from the inside out. Crowley lies, you told yourself. He’s a demon, a poor example of one at that, constantly sympathizing with Winchesters. Demons lie. Cas can’t die. Not now. Not like this. We’ll find a way to save him. We always find a way. Your shock cold fingers clasped over the angel’s sticky, bloodied hand. “I’m not leaving.” You peered helplessly between the angel’s anguished aspect and the Winchesters, eyes beginning to pool with tears you refused to acknowledge. The Winchesters stopped the apocalypse, killed Death, reconciled God and the Darkness, survived death (more than once) - surely they could save one injured angel. “We’re not leaving, right?”

 _“Cas, come on.”_ Dean backed up your words.

 _“No, you listen to me.”_ Cas growled through the agony. _“Look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, it-it’s been the best part of my life. And the things…the things we’ve shared together, they have changed me.”_ Stifling a groan, he somehow summoned the composure to quiet his quaking frame. _“You’re my family.”_ Expression watery, his focus flitted to you, regard dropping remorsefully when he met your dewy eyes. _“I love you.”_

A sob shattered your bosom, tears flowing freely. You squeezed his hand tighter.

 _“I love all of you.”_ He closed his eyes, mustering the courage to send his loved ones out of harm’s way, to ask them selfishly to abandon him. _“Just please, please. Don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die.”_ Desperation grated in his tone as he attempted to appear unwavering in his request. _“Just run. Save yourselves. And I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”_ He struggled to push himself upright, failing in a fit of coughing as you helped ease him back to the tattered couch.

 _“Cas, no.”_ Dean shook his head.

 _“Yes.”_ The angel panted from the futile exertion.

“No.” You sniffled, flattening a palm to his shoulder.

 _“You need to keep fighting.”_ He avoided your gaze, frightened to see the emotion in your features after his dying confession and final request – knowing one look at you would be the undoing of his resolve.

 _“We are fighting. We’re fighting for you Cas.”_ Sam firmly countered.

 _“And like you said, you’re family, and we don’t leave family behind.”_ Dean added sternly.

The angel trembled, breath shaky, glancing between the brothers, understanding nothing he could say or do would sway the decision - Winchesters were a stubborn lot.

Dean, Sam and Mary left you and Cas alone while they clustered to confer on a plan of action.

“Cas?” You brushed the sweat-slick hair from his forehead, willing him to look at you. “Angel?” You normally playfully teased him with the title, eliciting an eye roll or narrowed scolding squint in answer. But your tone was different now, the returned affection you shared for the angel unhindered.

He dared peek into your countenance, eyes brimming with tears, finding a modicum comfort in the soft familiar lines of your aspect. “Y/N. I-I’m sorry that it’s going to end like this. I should have…I never meant for it…”

“Shh angel, save your strength.” You gently pressed a finger to his lips, leaning closer, rubbing small circles into his arm. “You’re my world Cas. I…”

The King of Hell interrupted the moment, unceremoniously crashing screaming through the wall of the barn, landing in an unconscious heap at the base of a tractor.

Ramiel entered onto the scene via the new egress in the wall.

You cupped a palm to Cas’ cheek, compelling him to focus on you. You’d wasted so much time skirting around your love for the angel, believing he could not possibly feel the same. If this was the end, all the time you had left to spend together, you weren’t going to squander a second more. “I’ve got you, angel. I love you. It’s just us now, okay?”

Cas nodded, acquiescing to your touch, weakly resting his hand over yours, the tiniest of smiles tracing his mouth in defiance to the pain.

You searched each other’s eyes, chasing the eternity you’d been denied.

Cas knew without a doubt that your soul would persist on, lingering in perpetual peace and contentment. He hoped perhaps your nook in Heaven might even give you more time with him. Or rather, a representation of him constructed from your memories - an ideal happily ever after if that’s what your heart truly desired. Of course, angels didn’t have souls, and for him, this would be the it - the end of his story. The idea of your Heaven, however, comforted him as the black fissures in his vessel crept up his neck and cheek. Eyes fading, head lolling, he gagged as thick black began to ooze from his mouth.

 _“Cas!”_ Ramiel defeated, the lance of Michael clattered to the cement floor, Sam racing to the couch when the angel cried out.

Dean and Mary followed closely on his heels.

 _“Right here buddy. Hey we’re here Cas.”_ Sam crouched, settling a palm on the angel’s knee.

You clutched at the angel’s tattered shirt, uselessly trying to loosen his clothes to allow him to breath.

 _“We’re right here buddy.”_ Sam’s voice faltered.

Cas’ eyes rolled back, body seized in a convulsion.

“Do something!” You bawled, blinded by the sting of tears.

 _“Hang in there, alright?”_ Sam looked franticly at his brother. _“What do we do?”_

Dean’s chin dropped, resigned to the angel’s fate. He reached out to hold your shoulder.

You flinched away, wringing Cas’ arm, trying to pull him out of the seizure. “Castiel, please! Don’t go!” You collapsed, clinging to his torso – a pure blue light suddenly radiating against your tightly closed eyelids.

Taking a few tentative breaths, the angel’s strong arm wrapped protectively around your back, glinting blue eyes lifting to Crowley, the now broken lance spinning in his grasp.

 _“Magic’s in the craftsmanship.”_ Crowley stated matter-of-factly.

 _“Cas?”_ Dean tore his eyes from the demon to the apparently healed angel.

Cas stared, disbelieving between the King, the Winchesters, and your crumpled figure clutching to his chest.

 _“Oh.”_ Crowley shrugged. _“You’re welcome.”_ Disinterestedly dropping the lance, he disappeared.

Marching shell-shocked from the barn en masse, no one said a word. Against all odds, Ramiel was dead. Against even greater Biblical kinds of odds, Castiel was alive. Dean said you were going home, but that wasn’t exactly true. There was a hunter back at the cabin, Wally, that wanted last rights of a hunter funeral. It wouldn’t do to have demons swarming around at news of the death of a Prince of Hell and an empty meat suit with a hunter’s face laying invitingly out on the front porch.

Hours later, exhausted, achy, filthy, caked in blood and numerous other substances you didn’t intend to attempt to identify, you slumped into the backseat of the Impala, door held open chivalrously by the angel.

The atmosphere in the car remained oddly still as Dean turned onto the highway. After a few minutes, he switched on the radio. “You guys mind?”

The murmur of collective disapproval vibrated the cabin.

“Fine.” Dean begrudgingly switched the dial off. “But when I fall asleep at the wheel you have no one but yourselves to blame.”

Sighing, Sam slouched against the window, fitfully adjusting to find a comfortable position in the seat to try and get some sleep.

Approving of the idea, you closed your eyes, rolling your head to rest on Cas’ shoulder.

Cas peered down at your lap, sliding his outstretched fingers across your thigh to nudge yours. “Y/N?” Something had just occurred to him - something huge. Despite having said he was okay in the barn, the angel didn’t quite feel normal after he’d been miraculously healed. He felt fine, but different. Different, but not abnormal. He’d finally pinpointed the source of the peculiar feeling.

“Hmm?” You hummed, inching your fingers to intertwine with his.

“Can I tell you something?” The angel’s blue eyes fixed steadily on you when you opened your eyes.

“You’re okay, right?” You sat up, clutching his arm, a rush of worry zinging you to alertness.

“Yes.” He wound his arm around your shoulders, snuggling you into a warm embrace. “I’m better than okay.”

“What are you talking about Cas?” Dean’s gruff voice interceded with concern.

Cas met the elder Winchester’s gaze in the rear view mirror, an unusual full smile blazing across the angel’s face. “The power in the lance healed me.”

“Yeah, we got that buddy.” Dean half-smirked, wondering if the angel had gotten a few wires crossed in his close brush with death.

You curiously studied the angle of Cas’ stubbly jaw, surprised to hear an unmistakably familiar wave of celestial intent whisper in your mind, encouraging you to trust him, that everything would be alright - to hold on.

“No Dean, all of me.” Cas gave an exaggerated wink. Wings healed by the power of the archangel’s lance, the long forgotten flutter of angelic flight filled the air. Dean slammed on the brakes, sending Sam’s sleep-limp frame crashing to the dashboard. Throwing his arm back across the seat for leverage, he whipped around to gape at the empty backseat.


End file.
